Tool Cool For Rings
by Emono
Summary: Commitment isn’t in Don and Eric’s vocabulary. But that’s just gonna have to change! SLASH, extension of The Trinity Series, but can be stand alone. Don/Eric goodness.


**Title**: Too Cool For Rings  
Author: Emono  
Fandom: CSI: New York and Miami  
Rating: PG-15  
Series: It's an extension of my Trinity Series, but can be stand-alone  
Disclaimer: Poetic license, CSI will never be mine  
Summary: Commitment isn't in Don and Eric's vocabulary. But that's just gonna have to change! ;)  
Beta: gil_follower, whom I luv  
Warning: Pure on fluff, a little angst-y-ness, but overall just a plot bunny that popped up randomly while I was listening to "You and Me" by Lifehouse

**100-****Challenges****: **100 Prompts – Don/Eric  
**Prompt****:** 95 – Tattoo  
**Word****Count****: **1,859

Don and Eric had been together for a year and half before they both realized that it was more than a fling, that they really loved one another. Hell, if they were a regular couple, they'd get married. But that wasn't the case, since they couldn't even get a dedication ceremony.

They were cops, a Cuban and a New Yorker, it wouldn't be so easy.

But Eric Delko was a man of determination, and he desperately wanted a form of bondage between them. Something solid, something he could look on and know Don was his and he was Don's. Like a ring...

It took Eric two full weeks before he worked up enough nerve to ask Don Flack what he wanted. The Cuban approached his lover, easing onto the couch beside him with a loving smile. Don looked up from his morning coffee, bed-ruffled and clad in nothing more than an old, dark pair of sweat pants.

Don smiled back at his lover, "What is it, sweets?"

"Donnie, _amor_" Eric purred, reaching out and fiddling with the soft locks at the base of the New Yorker's skull "What do you think about rings?"

"For...what?" Don asked dumbly, setting his coffee down. He cast a look around, making sure the curtain rings weren't broken and such.

"Us" Eric urged, heart beating a quick beat in his chest "Like...promise rings? You know, to show that we're serious and-"

Don stood abruptly, the sound of shattering ceramic cutting off the Cuban's words. Eric recoiled, giving a startled cry and crashing to the floor. His shoulder collided with the coffee table hard, but the pain was overrun by his shock at seeing his lover acting so violently.

"Is the fact that I'm here not enough?" Don grit his teeth, eyes smoldering "Why the fuck should I have to prove myself to you with something like that?"

Eric gaped dumbly up at him, "I-I..."

Don took a step toward the other, but Eric flinched and backed away on his hands. The New Yorker froze at this, rage fading visibly and blue eyes showing guilt and underline hurt. Don nearly ran to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Rustling came from inside, but Eric couldn't bring himself to move. He seemed frozen, arms shaking under his weight but baring up. Sable eyes watered up, but tears never fell.

Don came out a few minutes later, dressed in rumpled clothes and looking stoic. He walked calmly over to the door, snatching up his coat and keys, then paused. Eric made a pathetic sound, sitting up more and staring imploring into deep azure eyes.

"...Donnie?"

Don opened his mouth, but merely shook his head and left without a word.

"Fine, bastard, just leave!" Eric bellowed after him, gaining back his speech after a minute or so "Don't bother saying anything! You're just breaking my fuckin' heart!"

His voice broke on the last words, huffing in an attempt to hold back his sobs.

~*~

Eric went out by himself deep into the night, heart aching and eyes dry for once all day. He sat alone in a bar, a sleazy one filled with lowly whores looking for a trick and gruff, burly men crammed into booths and around pool tables. He kept his head down, shots lined up before him. His badge wasn't on him, but his gun was safely tucked away in the waist of his belt.

Eric didn't want to be red-lighted as a cop, but he wasn't about to go around unarmed.

Eric downed another shot, one of at least a dozen he had guzzled down. He had no idea what he was drinking, all he knew that it was dark and strong. He had just growled to the bartender "I want to forget!" and shot after shot had been delivered to him after a large bill was set before him.

Sharp nails trailed along his arm, causing him to jerk away and glare in one smooth motion. A woman had approached him, painted up and wearing a smile that could have been bought at any porn store. Her plentiful chest was wrapped up in what looked akin to pink plastic wrap, her hair bleached to the point where he wouldn't be surprised it uprooted when she brushed it.

On second thought, he looked her over carefully, _if_ she brushed it.

"Hey baby" she purred, her voice so sweet he was sure his teeth were rotting in his skull. Her talon-like bubblegum painted nails groped at his thigh, trailing slowly up to his crotch. "You wanna have some fun?"

"Back off, bitch" he hissed, knocking her scrawny ass away easily. She didn't seem fazed, just went further down the table to the next waiting John Doe.

Eric deflated, sinking lower in the stool and bringing another shot to his lips. It burned more fiercely than the others, and he couldn't help but shake his head sharply and scowl. He hated drinking binges, but sometimes they were necessary when your heart was broke and bleeding.

Another hand reached out for him, fingertips trailing along the back of his neck. He arched away from it, turning on his stool to find yet another whore trying to work him over. This one was a boy, another pretty blonde thing that was a bit too-thin. He was lacquored in leather from navel to toe, the rest of him bare and barley covered in fishnet.

"Hey sweet-thing, Pam was nothing, I know what you need" his voice was that same honey-sweetened tone. The boy forced himself on the Cuban, getting between his legs and rubbing against him like a cat. The bar table dug into the small of his back, but he didn't push this one away. He would never sleep with some loathsome whore in a back-ass bar like this, but there was a chime from somewhere and…

"Back off, he's mine" growled a rough voice, the whore backed off instantly.

"Yes sir" the blonde boy disappeared, and in his place was dark hair and pretty blue eyes.

"Don?" Eric scowled, strong hands gripping his arms and pulling him off the stool "Get the fuck off me!"

"Sweets, I'm sorry" Don assured him, holding him close "You just scared me somethin' fierce earlier, that's all."

"I _scared_ you?" Eric scoffed, being led out of the bar by his lover. The chilly air of the night surrounded them, darkness fought off by the streetlight next to the car.

"Commitment, Eric…you know how it weirds me out" Don turned to his lover, looking so sorry and pathetic "You're the only one I've ever committed to, and I know you've had some trouble. I overreacted and…and I'm sorry, ok?"

Eric drowned in those azure orbs, he only loved Don and would forgive him for anything. The Cuban laced his fingers in ebony locks, pulling the other down into a sloppy kiss that had them both breathless.

"Of course I do, _amor_" Eric smiled "I shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that…"

Don managed to get the darker man into the car, slipping into the driver seat himself and starting the car. As it purred to life, Don looked over and smiled secretly.

Eric's brow drew in confusion, "What?"

"You know, sweets…" Don cocked his head thoughtfully "We're too cool for rings."

Eric wanted to question to the man further, but the alcohol was making him dizzy and he wanted to do nothing more than to lay down and rest his head in his lover's lap. So he did.

"…come on, Eric, I'm driving."

But the Cuban was fast asleep, and Don found that he didn't mind a bit.

~*~

**One Week Later**

Eric leant heavily against the window, blindfolded and in his lover's car. Don was driving, probably grinning and overall looking smug. But he trusted Don, and he had said they would spend their weekened in New York. Well, there they were, and Eric was still blindfolded.

"Why can't you just tell me where we're going?" Eric huffed.

"Cause then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" Don replied logically, taking another turn on the road "Here we are, so shut up."

Eric made a face, but he couldn't keep a smile off long around Don. The New Yorker got out of the car, silence, then his own door was being opened. Eric let himself be led out, grumbling protests all the way to the door. It opened with a chime, then a wave of ink and air-conditioned air hit him.

"Ok, look!" Don ripped the blindfold off his lover "What do you think?"

Eric was pretty confused, but then the over-tattoed girl there smiled at him and displayed what Don had already picked out for them.

It all fell into place, and the Cuban couldn't help but give a cry of delight and jump on his boyfriend.

~*~

**Another Week Later**

Eric reached across the meeting table, suddenly aware that all eyes were on his hand as he snatched up some of the pictures from the crime scene.

Speed was the first to speak, "Eric…what's on your hand?"

"Is that a ring?" Calleigh chimed in.

"No" he assured them "It's a tattoo."

"Is it really?" Horatio eyed the tattooed band on his CSI's wedding finger, it was a simple tattoo that consisted of two vines intertwined (one pitch black, the other silver.) "It looks a little more symbolic than just a mere tattoo."

Eric only smiled to himself, hiding his blush behind the pictures.

~*~

Mac found out about the tattoo on complete accident. It was a simple gesture, Don had passed Danny a cup of coffee during a case. The older man caught sight of it, registered it, then snatched up the man's hand and held it up.

"Don, what's this?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"Nothing" Don assured him with a knowing smile "Just a tattoo."

Mac gave him a knowing look, pulling out his cell phone, "And if I call Lieutenant Caine right _now_, he isn't going to tell me that Eric Delko has one to match it?"

Don paled a little, "Ok…_maybe_ he will."

"I knew you loved him too much not to claim him for yourself" Danny smirked, all-knowing and smug.

Mac sighed heavily, "You better know what you're doing, and you better not break his heart. I _don__'__t_ want a call from Miami about how their most skilled Diver is letting his Cuban blood get to him and shooting up a bank…or _something_."

Fed up with the conversation, Don left the room…but couldn't stop smiling.

**End**

[insert preferred ending song here]


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